Cailan Theirin: An Erotic Life
by Sagacious Rage
Summary: Massive anon!fail from the kinkmeme. Most of these feature Cailan. I like him, ok! There are a few other pairings scattered about for flavor, so to speak. I added the genre "humor" because I like puns with my smut, apparently. NB: Chapter 6 is not slash.
1. Bounty of Orzammar: Cailan and Sereda

"Later". What did he mean by "Later"? She fidgeted at her seat by the fire. By the Ancestors, it was cold topside. She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders. The other Wardens were preparing for bed. She would never sleep tonight. She stood up.

"Do you need something, Sereda?" Duncan asked.

"Just stretching my legs." She gave him a wry smile and walked off.

* * *

Of course, in her meanderings she got hopelessly lost. The vast expanse of inky-black sky made her feel light-headed and irritable. Now, even if she wanted to go to bed, she couldn't. She had no idea where bed was. She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. One thing that wouldn't be in bed was Gorim, ready for their pre-battle "ritual".

She looked up and realized she was standing in front of the King's tent. A smile quirked her lips. She was sure he had winked at her. Maybe he would be interested in some "ritual".

* * *

Cailan rose to greet her. "Warden, to what do I owe this pleasure?" he asked, sounding as pleased as he was confused.

To her surprise, Sereda was struck suddenly bashful. He really was so handsome, and tall. He stood a good two feet taller than her. Earlier, she had thought that maybe he seemed taller than he was because of the impressive suit of armor he had been wearing, but even now in a loose shirt and simple britches, his height was impressive. Also, now obvious, was his equally impressive musculature. He smiled winningly at her. She took a deep breath and tried to quell the wriggles of nervousness that had suddenly appeared in her gut. She smiled back. "Oh, well, I thought I would take this opportunity to discuss … trade relations." What? Why did she say that?

He paused, brow furrowed slightly. "Of... course. Come, make yourself comfortable." He gestured toward the luxurious furnishings in his tent. She sat on the edge of a cot, covered in a rich duvet, feeling slightly foolish. "Would you like something to drink? I was just enjoying some of that dwarven ale we were discussing earlier." He handed her a mug.

She took a sip and swallowed. "I... have a confession to make, Your Highness."

"Please, call me 'Cailan'. We are equals, are we not?" he laughed easily as he lounged next to her. She was acutely aware of the small distance between their bodies.

She shifted. "Yes, of course... Cailan. Anyway, my confession: I don't actually like dwarven ale. I find human ale to be much better tasting."

"Really," he drawled. "That is interesting. You see, I find it quite intoxicating." His hand lifted, and brushed her hair from her ear.

She shivered.

"Is there anything else you find you find preferable 'topside'?" he continued, leaning closer.

She leaned away. "Well, uh, I don't really know yet. I've never been topside before. It is... strange. Everything is so much bigger."

"Fascinating," he breathed on her neck. "Everything, you say?"

She leaned back further, until her back was pressed against the cot. One of his hands was still stroking her hair while the other began to wander up her calf. She bent her knees, her skirts falling away to expose more of her legs. "Yes, I," she could not believe she was actually blushing, "I mean to say, everything I have...encountered." She licked her lips. "Your Highness, I," his finger was now trailing up her inner thigh. "I thought we were going to discuss trade relations between our peoples!"

"Oh, but we are. I would very much like to sample the best of Orzammar's," his eyes dipped to look at her bosom as she struggled to catch her breath, "bounty." And before she could say anything else, he finally closed the distance between their mouths with a soft but assertive kiss.

Her heart thudded against her ribs as his fingers brushed the outside of her smallclothes. "My goodness, Princess Sereda." He murmured against her throat. "We must get you out of these damp clothes immediately before you catch your death of cold."

"Well," she said, regaining a bit of her customary boldness and slipping a finger in the waistband of his britches and tugging. "If we are equals, after all, Cailan."

He gave her a wicked grin and rapidly shed his clothes. She followed suit. Before, his gaze had been appreciative, but now it was downright hungry. His fingers again brushed against her now naked center. She gasped and clutched his arm. "Is something wrong?" he asked, concerned.

"Just you teasing me," she growled and pulled.

"Your desire is my command," he responded cheekily and dipped in deeper. She bucked against him as his touch sent shocks of pleasure through her. He gently swirled his fingers around outside before plunging in again.

"Oh you sodding duster!" she cried and sat up straight again. "If you do not stop nughopping around and rut me already we are going to have an international incident."

He paused, looking concerned. "I am most eager to oblige, however, I … wanted to be sure you were quite prepared..."

And she looked down, and was momentarily taken aback. "Oh, so it is all proportional," she said, feeling a sense of almost academic achievement. "Sod it. I'm ready."

He hesitated. "Perhaps it would be more comfortable if you were...topside."

"Yes, I'm beginning to like it up there," she said and pushed on his shoulders.

She slowly lowered herself onto him. It felt even larger than it looked and she had to slowly work herself down his shaft. She began to ride slowly but with determination. She was not going to leave unsatisfied. His fingers found her again, and nearly knocked her off her rhythm. Pain gave way to pleasure. He curled forward to fondle her nipples with tongue and unoccupied hand. She dug her fingers into his luscious hair and pulled him closer.

She increased her pace, breasts bouncing in time. He leaned back and gazed up at her, enraptured. "Maker's breath, you are glorious."

Her fingers curled in his hair. "Don't you dare stop now." Her body was rocked by a powerful orgasm, and she could not stop the screams of pleasure as she jerked forward. "Enough!"

He wrapped both hands around her hips and gripped tight as she rode harder, bringing him to his own release. He shuddered and cried out, driving deep into her. She clenched around him as she softly rocked, enjoying the aftershocks. He leaned back, smiling lazily. "Well, Warden or Princess or whatever station you claim now, is that enough to prevent any unfortunate incidents?"

"Hmm..." she slowly rolled her hips, and was rewarded with a feeling of renewed interest on his part. "I'm not sure. Perhaps more... negotiation is necessary."


	2. Imperial Negotiations: Cailan and Celene

"You know, my dear, that I only aim to please you."

She took a slow, deep breath, keenly aware of how such an act amplified her more bountiful features. "But?"

"I don't understand why you want me to wear this. Leather pants? Nobody's worn anything like this for, oh, twenty? Thirty years?"

She clasped her hands and held them to her chin. "Please, love. For me?"

He shrugged. "Very well."

* * *

Celene sat on the bed, trembling with anticipation. Cailan finally entered, striding triumphantly toward her. "Wait!" she leapt up and grabbed a brush from the vanity. "Your hair."

He was taken aback. "My hair? What's wrong with my hair?" his hands lifted, instinctually defensive.

"Oh it is quite lovely, surely, but … the braids. It's all wrong." She gently undid the ties and brushed his hair. Once it was tousled to her liking, she stepped back to admire the effect. "Yes. Perfect."

He stole a glance at himself in the mirror, and his eyebrows shot up. "Oh! I...see," he smirked. "I get what you're playing at." He stepped forward and grabbed her throat. "You weak, little Orlesian noble. You think you can vanquish me?"

She gasped. "You catch on quickly."

"The Rebel Queen didn't raise a fool. On your knees."

She did as she was told. He loosened the laces on his trousers. "Now show me what those soft little lips are good for."

She took him in her mouth. He grabbed her hair and thrust into her. She gagged as he hit the back of her throat. "Keep that up and I'm going to have to really show you what a rebel can do, Your Eminence." She redoubled her efforts, using her hands to stroke the parts her mouth could not reach, swirling her tongue lovingly around the tip. "That's enough of that," he announced and pulled her up to her feet.

"What else can I do to convince you to spare me," she fluttered her lashes, panting in anticipation.

"Turn around, bend over, and hike up your skirts. I'm ready to invade."

Again she obeyed to the letter, pressing her face into the duvet. He entered her roughly. "So much for manners and good breeding," he bent forward and whispered in her ear. "You're as ready for me as a common whore."

She bit the fabric as he pounded into her. She slipped a hand under her belly to touch herself. "No, no, that won't do at all," he grabbed her arm and yanked, pinning her wrists over her head. "Only I am going to enjoy this."

He increased his pace, merciless, relentless. She groaned as he pushed even deeper into her. Finally, he released into her, roaring as he came. He pulled out and yanked her up with one hand, his trousers with the other. "Now, you behave yourself. Or next time, I'm bringing Loghain with me."


	3. Just Get it Over With: Neria and Jowan

Neria meets Jowan at their prearranged location. "So. This is it?"

He swallows and nods. "You still...want to, right?"

She sighs and begins to undo the ties on her robes. "Well, aren't you going to undress as well? I'm not sure we can through clothes."

Fumbling fingers release ties, loosen stays, undo clasps. Awkward caresses, kisses too slick with saliva and thick tongues. They press into each other, she has to crane her neck and stand on tiptoes to meet his mouth, he has to stoop to wrap his arms around her waist.

She had expected it to be strange at first, but then as their passion grew so would their ease. But that isn't happening. They break apart and look at each other, naked, exposed in the moonlight streaming in through high slit windows, unsure how to proceed. "I think, I mean, it would be easier if we were lying down, right?" he suggests.

The stone floors are cold and hard and dusty. Neria lays on her back, and Jowan lowers himself over her. "I'm not sure if I'm ready," she says. "Maybe if you...touched it?"

Cold fingers slide into her, and she thinks of those fingers just touching the ground and the dust and a odd feeling starts to build in her throat, like she wants to cry and laugh at the same time. Jowan pulls his fingers out of her and pushes in with his staff and there is a resistance and she bites her lip.

"Are you alright?" he asks, half in her, half out.

"Yes, I'm fine," she swallows the feeling which is now on the verge of a sob. "Keep going."

He does, all the way and it hurts but it's not unbearable and it gets easier as he continues to move. She doesn't know if she's supposed to move, too. She eases her hips to meet his thrusts and that seems to help. It is starting to feel almost nice when he gasps and shudders and it's over.

They lay there, unsure of what to do next when the sound of approaching footsteps rouse them. Thankful for the excuse, Neria throws her robes over her head and slips back into the shadows, wiping away the tears that have finally come.


	4. Stay: Cailan and Amell

He was still pale, too pale. Amell bit her lip, fighting tears. "Please, please don't. Don't leave me." She stroked his hair from his brow and willed another healing spell to wash over him. She was never much for the healing arts, elemental spells held so much more appeal to her warlike mind. She gently lay her head on his chest and listened for a heartbeat. It was soft and slow, but steady. She didn't notice when her breathing shifted to match his. She didn't realize when she fell asleep, mana spent.

* * *

Amell blinked half-awake, aware of a curious sensation. Fingers in her hair. Whose? Where was she? Her foggy thoughts tried to trace her way back. There was... a battle. And she was in a tower, and she lit a fire, and something terrible happened and then she found... Cailan. Grievously wounded but alive. She had tried to heal him. She sat up swiftly and looked to see him awake. And smiling. Oh Maker.

"Cailan," she pressed her hand to her mouth. "You're alive!"

He laughed and touched her face. "When will you start listening to me, you stubborn, stubborn woman. I told you was indestructible."

She covered her face with both hands and began to sob. "I just thought... Oh, Maker... I don't know what I would have done if..."

"Shhh, don't worry about that. I'm here, and you're here. We're both alive and everything will be alright."

She took a deep breath and collapsed onto him in a flurry of desperate kisses. "Don't you ever scare me like that again, you wicked, horrible, awful, very bad, no good man!"

He chuckled as his hands drifted along her sides. "That bad, am I?"

"Yes, and wretched. You are also wretched."

"Wretched! Andraste save me. Now, what words shall I have to describe you? Perhaps, lovely?" He peppered his words with slow kisses, starting on her palm and working his way up her arm. "Passionate? Gorgeous? Exquisite? A creature of utterly unearthly beauty and grace?"

Her tears started again. "Stop, just stop."

"What? Do I not speak the truth?"

She choked down another wave of tears.

"Another truth I must announce to the world. The Chasind are the most innovative people in Thedas when it comes to fashion. Have I told you how much I appreciate these robes?" He slipped a hand between the scrap of cloth covering her right breast and brushed a thumb against the nipple, she . "I'm seriously considering requesting that these robes be made mandatory at the Circle Tower."

She lifted her head and looked him in the eye, dead serious. "I think First Enchanter Irving would look silly."

He laughed again. "Fair enough. Then they are only mandatory for mages in my tent perhaps? Except right now. It is not mandatory right now."

She lay her head back down on his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I cannot follow your ever-changing whims, Your Majesty," she muttered, sullen. "You'll have to be more direct with me."

He sat up, and pulled her upright as well. "Directly? I want you naked. Now."

"But, Cailan, your injuries?"

He pulled his shirt over his head, and she had to fight the sudden, insane urge to run her tongue in the dips between his muscles. "Your tender ministrations seem to have done the trick, Warden. I feel better than good. I feel _glorious_." He slipped a finger under the belt over her hip. "Now, you have your orders."

She rolled her eyes. "I said you needed to be direct. Not an ass."

He pouted. "Fine. Please?"

She finally cracked a smile. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen."

"You want me to beg? Because I will. Amell, I _need_ you." His left hand was now firmly cupping her right breast while the left was dangerously slipping in and out of her small clothes. He nuzzled her neck. "Pretty pretty please?" he asked with a cheeky grin, teeth softly grazing.

Amell giggled at the tickle. She heaved a great sigh. "Fine." She turned and wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply.

He fumbled at the buckles and ties on her robes. "Damnable things."

She laughed, deep and throaty. "When before you were nothing but compliments? When are you going to turn on me, I wonder."

He lifted his head and ran his fingers through her hair. "Never."

Her breath caught in her throat. "Really?"

"Really."

Somehow her robes melted off her body and puddled on the floor along with his trousers. And soft lips met tentative tongues and nibbling teeth and wandering hands and heart beats increased an pupils dilated and blood pounded through veins and she was on her back and he was trailing kisses down between her breasts and continued over her stomach and found he found his way between her legs.

Oh Maker why did she not know of this before. Why did nobody say anything about this. His tongue dipped and flicked and swirled and she moaned and trembled and everybody should know about this. She was resolved to shout it from the mountaintops. She cursed her instructors at the Tower who never saw fit to mention that this was allowed. Her back arched as waves of pleasure pulsed through her. But it was not enough. "Cailan!"

He stopped. "Is something wrong?"

She grabbed his shoulders and pulled him up over her. "I want you."

He pushed into her, just the tip, and stopped, grinning impishly. "Maybe I want you to beg."

She shrieked and wrapped her legs around him and pulled. "No!"

"If you insist, Warden." He moved within her, gentle, slow and so deep she almost couldn't bear it. She clutched him tightly and dug her teeth into his shoulder. He moved faster, she rocked against him, building the fire together.

Sweat dripping, hands clutching. "I can't get enough of you," she panted. "Don't ever leave me again." A sob rose in her throat. "Don't you dare."

And again the waves coursed through her, she clenched around him and groaned, a deep sound rising from her core. He followed soon after. She clung to him, holding him inside her. The sobs broke again.

"Don't ever. Just stay with me. Just stay."

* * *

A.N. Guess which "Amell" this really is and win a cookie! (ps not really it's pretty obvious...)


	5. Revenge: Teagan and Kallian

OR: The Quickest Way to Get Over Somebody is to Get Under the Bannhammer

Or: Revenge is a Dish Best Served Hot... With the Bannhammer

(Neither of those _totally awesome_ titles would fit so I had to go with something lame)

* * *

Kallian was furious. A towering, unbearable rage. Her anger pulsed through her veins, boiling her from the inside out. She needed to get back at him. She needed to be satisfied.

An idea clicked into place. A horrible, wicked, delicious idea.

She stalked through the estate, a woman on a mission. Luck was on her side, she found Teagan alone. He was seated by the fire in the library, a glass of brandy in his hand and reading a book. She crept up behind him, and slipped a delicate finger along the inside of his collar, a gentle pressure against his collarbone. She leaned forward and whispered, lips brushing against the top of his ear. "Meet me in the guestroom in ten minutes."

"Which..."

She nipped his ear. "You know which one."

Teagan did as he was told. Kallian slammed the door shut after him and attacked with a ferocity that surprised both of them. Lips and teeth and clawing fingernails and gasping breaths and clothes were torn and skin was scratched and hair was pulled before they even considered the bed. She jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist. "What are you waiting for?" she challenged.

He wrapped his arms under her thighs and bottom and began carrying her toward the bed. "May I ask what brought this on?"

She slapped him. "No."

He gently lay her down and stroked her hair, a concerned look on his face. "I'm not..."

She slapped him again. "Stop thinking and fuck me. Hard. Or so help me..."

A fire lit behind his eyes, and he shoved her down. The last of their clothing was discarded, and he plunged into her roughly. She cried out. Yes, this is what she wanted. He pounded into her, bringing her to the knife's edge of pleasure and pain. She dug her nails into his back. He stopped suddenly. She reared back to slap him again. He caught her hands and pinned her to the bed. He thrust slowly, deep. Her head rolled back. "There's no point to this if I don't get what I want, too, my lady."

She snapped back up. "No. No lady. I want you to fuck me like the animal you think am. Right? That's what I am. An animal."

He increased his pace, and pressed down harder. "No, not an animal. A lovely," he punctuated each adjective, "exquisite, complicated, incredible woman."

She bit him on the shoulder. "Harder."

The bed quacked in time as he hammered her. His hands slipped off of hers, grabbed the headboard for leverage. She clung to him, nails leaving bloody tracks on his shoulders and back, teeth leaving half-moons on his chest. She screamed as she crested, clenching him in shuddering waves. He finally relented, and let out his own roar. He collapsed on her, both bodies slick with sweat. She ran her fingers through his hair. "Thank you. Thank you."

The door opened, and Kallian looked up over Teagan's shoulder to meet eyes with Alistair. He stared, a look of dull incomprehension on his face which slowly gave way to anger and then betrayal. Victory. She clutched Teagan closer and began to laugh, softly at first and building to near-hysteria when his eyes grew bright with tears before he turned and stalked off, leaving the door wide open.


	6. Now, You are a Man: Teagan and Cailan

A/N: Not slash, don't worry. Also: cookie to whoever gets the "LaLune" reference.

* * *

Stumbling, arms around shoulders, slurred voices ringing off buildings, drunken singing.

"_Oh and a mage's staff has a knob on the end  
knob on the end  
a knooooob on the eeeeeend!"_

Cailan doubled over, laughing and stumbling forward. "Oh, Uncle, this has been a most glorious birthday."

Teagan leaned against a lamp post, a sloppy grin on his face. A realization of just what part of the city they were in penetrated his alcohol-fogged mind. He grabbed Cailan's arm. "Wait, Nephew. We should not return to the palace just yet."

Cailan laughed a bit more and straightened up, catching his breath. "Why not?"

"You." Teagan pointed a finger and poked Cailan's chest roughly. "You are now old enough. A man. You know, it's time for you."

"Time for what, Uncle?"

"C'mon." He grabbed him by the arm and dragged. "I want to show you something."

Teagan and Cailan, continue to stumble along the wharf until they arrived at The Pearl. "Uncle, I..."

"Sh." Teagan clapped a hand over Cailan's mouth. "It's time for you to really become a man."

"But..."

"No, no, no arguments." And he threw open the door. "Sanga!" he roared. "Bring out the girls. I wish to purchase a birthday present for my favorite nephew!"

He was met only with a shocked, awkward silence. He frowned and looked at the crowd of customers and workers, then Cailan, who was biting his lip to keep from laughing. Sanga cleared her throat. "Yes, well, it is always a pleasure to service such noble clients. The usual, Your Highness?"

Teagan turned to Cailan, confused. "_Usual_?"

He shrugged. "I was trying to tell you, but you wouldn't listen. Did you _honestly_ believe I've never been here before?" He shook his head, flicking the hair from his shoulders. "No, actually, Sanga. I'm not sure what kind of mood I'm in..."

"Hmm. It is a special occasion. Perhaps you are feeling sentimental? Shall I summon LaLune?"

He stroked his chin. "No, not for me. But perhaps for you, Uncle?"

"LaLune?" Teagan furrowed his brow, growing more confused and unsure of himself by the minute. "What are you talking about."

Cailan turned back to Sanga with a grin. "Oh, you must. Just call her down while I make up my mind." He lounged in a chair. Immediately, two elven girls sat in his lap while a third brought him a glass of wine. "Please, Uncle, make yourself comfortable."

Sanga clapped her hands twice, and a girl emerged from the next room. Dark hair tumbled around her shoulders and her ivory pale breasts heaved against the low-cut neckline of her skin-tight approximation of mage's robes. "Oh, Cailan," she breathed. "You have come to rescue me from this terrible Tower! Shall we share tales of our adventures while making love by the light of the moon?"

He turned to Teagan. "Isn't she amazing? She's an apostate, you know. Very hush-hush. Costs and extra two sovereigns but believe me, it's worth it for 'Rejuvenate' alone."

LaLune blushed demurely and fluttered her eyelashes at Teagan. "At the risk of sounding arrogant, I am also able to use 'Stone Skin' to protect myself against forces which could be described as... hammering."

Teagan smiled slowly. "Yes, that sounds fascinating..." He took one dainty hand in his and brought it to his lips.

Cailan sighed as one cooing elf played with his hair and the other started undoing the buttons on his shirt. "Sanga, help me," he pouted. "What do I want? Do you have anybody new?"

"Not since the last time you came, I'm afraid to say, Your Highness."

He sighed in petulant frustration. LaLune turned her face to him, as Teagan had pulled her onto his lap. "Perhaps, my love, you are feeling...adventurous?"

He pouted. "Yes. Maybe. I don't know."

LaLune exchanged glances with Sanga, who grinned wickedly. She clapped three times. A dozen men of varied races and stations emerged from the other room.

Cailan laughed good-naturedly. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Well, you did say you were feeling adventurous..." she flushed a delicate pink as Teagan buried his face in her cleavage and a hand disappeared beneath her robes.

One of the elves, the one with a most impressive face tattoo slinked towards him. "Your Highness, does not a man possess lips and hands and... other parts just like a woman?"

Cailan frowned, confused. He looked from the elf standing in front of him to the two on his lap. His expression shifted from confused to thoughtful and, finally, to intrigued.

"Ladies, my apologies. I fear tonight I must devote myself to discussing... _man things_."


	7. Sweet Memories: Cailan and Cousland

He wasn't actually expecting to see _her_ when Duncan arrived. The very sight of her was enough to reawaken a myriad of intense memories. Highever. The hunt. What came after the hunt. He felt a pang in his groin at the thought of that evening. And a wave of ruefulness at how awkward breakfast was the next morning, sitting across from the Teyrn.

And there she was, standing right in front of him, bold as brass. A living, breathing reminder of one of the most erotic nights of his life. It was unbearable. Of course, he couldn't have what he really wanted. He couldn't have _her_. He sat in his tent, shaking with a deep, passionate need.

This was unbearable. He had to have release. He considered sending for Elissa, but rejected that idea. No, that would be unseemly. He lay back on his cot. Also unsatisfactory: a camp follower. None would even approach the ideal.

The need had grown into an ache. He felt his royal staff straining against the laces of his trousers. He untied them and let his glorious member free. He wrapped his fingers around his length and remembered that night. That incredible night in Highever.

He remembered the gentle fingers on his kingly scepter. He tried to mimic her teasing touch, stroking the underside of his love stick as it grew. He remembered her straddling his face as he eagerly lapped at her lady penis, as her nectar of arousal dripped down his cheeks.

Simply remembering the scent of her musk was enough to bring him to the edge. His strokes increased in pressure and urgency, his attention focusing at the tip of his mighty Duncan, a feeling of focused arousal and soul-rending _want_. Oh, if only she could be with him now. He would show her the true meaning of ecstacy.

He remembered her cries, how she left bloody clawmarks down his back, how she had clenched around him as she reached her own apex of pleasure under his ministrations. Finally he could stand it no longer. His regal rod jerked, and erupted Theirin juice as her name burst from his mouth. "OH! ELEANOR!" he cried as he remembered his romance serum dripping from her face.


	8. Teyrna Robinson

"Bryce, I am overtired. We have been out for hours with no sign of a trail. I wish to return to the castle."

Bryce exchanged glances with Maric and Rendon. Their eyes were bright and smiles wide. They were enjoying this waste of time, tramping around the moors after nothing. But the boy also looked bored. She felt a flicker of pity for him. It can't be fun, traipsing about the country with his father while the man tries to negotiate a marriage for him with girls he's never met. She looked back to Bryce. "Perhaps the boy could accompany me. I hate to enter a cold estate alone."

She was happy to see the shade of relief that appeared in his eyes. He quickly covered. "But, Father," he started.

"No, I'm sorry, Cailan. But you should accompany the lady. We have... man things to discuss."

Bryce and Rendon laughed. "Yes, _man things_."

* * *

As they walked toward the castle, Eleanor was suddenly struck with the realization that Cailan was hardly a _boy_ any longer. At seventeen years old, he was already as tall as his father, she had to walk quickly to keep up with his loping pace. The thin leather armor stretched and bunched as his muscles rolled underneath it. She tore her eyes away from him. Maker help her. They were here to negotiate the possible marriage between this boy and her daughter. She _can't_.

She _musn't_.

She _shouldn't_.

* * *

The estate was quiet. Most of the guards were out on the hunting grounds, protecting the king. The servants had followed to set up a meal out-of-doors. A few elves scurried about on some mission or other but aside from them the two were alone. Cailan wandered around the main sitting room, as if he didn't quite know what to do with himself.

"We are lucky," she said. "It seems somebody thought to light the fire already."

He nodded.

"Would you like a drink? I have some brandy that would help to warm you up."

"That would be very nice, thank you." He accepted the glass and looked everywhere but her eye.

She smiled a little. "You know they won't be back for hours. We might as well find something to talk about. How do you feel about all this, this marriage business? Meet anybody interesting?"

He shrugged and turned to look out a window. "Not particularly."

She lounged on a couch, stretching her legs. "That is a shame. Well, I'm sure it will be easier once the decision has been made. I wanted nothing to do with Bryce when we first met. Since then? Well. I'm not going to lie and pretend it's all been sunshine and cookies but there have been good times. Usually."

Cailan turned around slowly, and his eyes dragging along the length of her body. "By the Maker."

She settled back in her chair. "Pardon?"

"Oh no, Teyrna Cousland, oh no." He seemed distressed.

"What is it, Cailan."

"For the love of Andraste, Teyrna Cousland. Here we are. You get me alone, you give me a drink, you start talking about your own marriage and then you mention how they won't be back for hours."

"What are you getting at."

"Teyrna Cousland, you are trying to seduce me."

Her heart leapt as she realized he was right. That is exactly what she was trying to do.

His brows furrowed. "Aren't you?"

She stood up and walked toward him slowly, deliberately, glass in hand. "Cailan I am _not_ trying to seduce you."

"Of course not. I'm sorry..."

She was now very close. Too close. She spoke low. "Would you like me to seduce you?"

He choked on his drink. "I... What?"

"Is that what you're trying to tell me?" she purred.

He looked at her, eyes round. "Well," he answered slowly. "Yes. I would like that."

She smiled. He was so young, so fresh, so energetic. She trailed a finger along his shoulder and down to his belt and pulled him against her. "Kiss me."

He did, tentatively at first but growing in fervor. She nibbled on his lower lip, and he gasped in surprise. She carefully placed her drink down on a table behind her, and reached for the neck of his light leather armor. "Get this off, young man."

He stripped and she leaned back, admiring his supple form, glowing with health and vitality, firelight flickering against his glowing skin. She slipped out of her armor and let her hair out of its customary buns. Their bodies met again, and she noted with pleasure that he was quite ready. She had forgotten how quickly young men could become aroused. "No, not yet. Touch me first."

"Touch you? There?"

"Yes, you foolish thing. Like this," and she slid her hand between her legs to demonstrate.

He knelt and watched, enraptured. He glanced up at her face as she leaned back, enjoying her own arousal. "Glorious," he breathed.

She laughed, deep and throaty. "Do you say that to all the girls?"

He didn't answer, just reached up to touch her. "Like this?" he asked, hesitant.

"_Yes_!" she answered and rocked against his touch. "Oh you _do_ learn fast."

He explored her for a time, trying different strokes and places and pressures, responding intuitively to the moans and shudders. Eventually she inhaled and said, "Now."

He needed no further encouragement. She guided him into her and he exhaled slowly. "Oh Maker," he whispered in her ear.

This elicited another throaty chuckle. "Oh, you are a heartbreaker." She choked back a moan as he thrust his full length inside her. "Or you will be. I don't..." and he found her again with his hand and she no longer was capable of coherent thought.

He was excited and awkward as a puppy, and she often had to correct his form, or slow him down, or remind him to touch or to increase his pace and pressure but he was an excellent student. Before long she felt the familiar trembles of ecstasy building at the small of her back. "Oh that is very good, Cailan." she knotted a fist in his hair. Buoyed by her encouragement, he deepened her movements until finally she arrived. She dug her fingers into his bottom and pulled him roughly into her. "Hold still" she gasped in his ear, quivering as she rode her pleasure to its apex. "Now, you can finish."

It didn't take long. He was still young. She let him remain within her for a moment, panting. Then she was done. She lifted herself off.

* * *

Bryce and Eleanor stood together at the main gate, watching the royal party depart. "So what do you think, Bryce? Do you think they would be a good match?" she asked casually.

He sighed. "As much as I like the idea of Elissa as queen, no. He seems far too subdued for her."

"Yes," she replied, thoughtfully. "Much too subdued."


End file.
